


Cheaper by the Dozen or More

by heavymetalqueen26



Series: Baggins AU's [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child!Comanpy, Dwarves don't understand the genders of people without beards, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, my story just ran away from me... again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavymetalqueen26/pseuds/heavymetalqueen26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Bilbo Baggins' 35th birthday, he was expecting to spend another birthday alone remembering the days when Bag End wasn't so lonely, he wasn't expecting to spend it with 13 messy children.<br/>He may have lost his respectability, but gained his new family.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Really,” Bilbo muttered with a glare. It was after all, all Thrain's and Frerin's fault. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AHAHA, this was supposed to be a one shot, ha.  
> Obvious canon changes, such as everyones age and meeting.

Mister Bilbo Baggins; the name was synonymous with respectability and kindness, unless one was a Sackville-Baggins. Bilbo Baggins never did anything unexpected, unless it was to pick up more groceries for a tea party. He was always kind to his neighbors, always making pleasant conversation, and very generous. It was quite surprising considering he had lost his parents at such a young age, he had lived alone since then, till his 35th birthday, which was today. Birth days; the day he celebrated alone, willingly, for he was in no mood to deal with the false affections of his distant relatives.

 

Thus he found his way to the market, picking up a pre-ordered cake from the baker and some special tea, as was the usual for his birthday. He had no living relative that lived near by who was willing to bake him a cake; his closest friends were the Gamgees who lived next door and looked after his garden.

 

Only family could bake a birthday cake, the only exception would be the baker. Only family was allowed to share tea and time on such a date as a birthday. Mister Bilbo Baggins had no family to eat cake with or to drink tea with. His birthdays were never happy, not since the age of 17.

 

So after he had bid the baker and the trader from Bree good day, he made the tedious trip home with cake in his hands and tea in his parcel. His mind wondered to happy times, before his mother and father fell ill, of times his mother would make him carrot cake or short bread with strawberries and jam on top. To times where his father would make a “dangerous” trip to Bree to find the most exquisite tea, just for him.

 

He remembered his first birthday without his parents, he woke to no smell of delicious homemade goods, no sound of his father bustling around getting ready for a trip to Bree. He woke alone, his home empty and cold, the smell of salty tears filling the air.

 

He had slowly learned to cope without his parents' presence, his birthdays grew to be more of an occasion to remember the good times than a celebration of his birth. He had read all of his father's books, mastered every recipe his mother had ever owned, and perfected his knowledge over herbs. He even kept the house the same after their passing, everything was as if they had never left. It was cruel for himself to walk by his parents' room and see the illusion as though they were out on an errand, but he wasn't ready yet to change things. In his opinion everything was just fine the way it was, after all he lived alone in the large home of Bag End, there was no reason to change anything.

 

Bilbo hummed a light tune as he re-entered his home. Kicking open the slightly ajar gate with a small tap, and with a small curse shifting over his bag of pipe-weed with his foot. He should remember not to leave it lying out in broad daylight. Some strange and suspicious folk had been seen wondering too close to Hobbiton for comfort, the last thing he needed was strangers in his home. With a small sag of relief that he hadn't locked his door, he lightly elbowing the door open he made note of his carpet.

 

His very dirty carpet; as in definitely-not-the-way-he-left-it carpet.

 

His carpet, especially by the door, had always been clean. It was never muddy, like it was now. It was always a pristine green and brown, not covered in mud, water, and dead forestry.

 

With shaky hands, he moved his cake to his mother's glory box. Reaching with uncertain hands he grasped one of his walking sticks. His feet moved with silent assurance, the opposite of his clammy and trembling hands. Giving out a frightened whimper as he heard the voices in his kitchen, his body trembled as he plastered it against the wall. He listened to the voiced in the kitchen, a big group he fearfully noted. He heard them speak with quiet tones, soft and hushed, in what language he didn't know. The words may have been spoken quietly, but they were harsh sounding to his ears. He shivered with apprehension at just **what** his intruders may be.

 

Holding his stick in front of him as one would a sword, he peeked around the corner. His eyes widened in surprise, he was not expecting to see such a group. It was in fact better than what he had first thought to be in his house, he had at first thought his home was full of blood thirsty robbers, not thirteen little children covered in mud and twigs.

 

They weren't hobbit children, that much was obvious from the lack of curls in their hair and the thick boots. Their cloths were thick, obviously made for much harsher weather than that of the Shire. Their foreheads were large, their noses big, and their jawline thick. These children were not of men fore they were too small, they were not of hobbits fore they wore shoes. These children were of dwarrows.

 

And they were in his house; wrecking his kitchen.

 

Bilbo's cheeks reddened with anger, his previous fears forgotten. He gave a disgruntled shriek as one of the children, with golden hair, threw a piece of his mother's fine china. Sputtering he gave a cry of distress, “Could you not!”

 

It seemed all at once the group of children gave a shrill cry of fear, running to the cabinets and pantry to hide in. The only one not moving was a small carrot top child, maybe the smallest of the group. His hair was cut short in a bowl like shape, with a few braids in it, and his dirty clothes messing up Bilbo's floor. His eyes closed with fat tears running down his cheeks, his fist clenching around a wooden slingshot, and a small tare in his trousers, just at the knee. His sobs wrenching themselves from his open mouth, and the small child sat unceremoniously on the cold wooden floor, probably pushed down in the commotion.

 

Without thought Bilbo made a small cooing sound at the small dwarf, scooping the lad up into his arms he began to rock and sooth the dwarfling. It was the way of the hobbits, every hobbit was to take care of any child they came upon. With as many as hobbits had it was no surprise really, it after all, took a village to raise a child.

 

As soon as Bilbo picked up the small dwarfling, he began to cry into Bilbo's tunic. His fist dropping the small slingshot in favor of the soft cloth. His face shielded in the hobbit's neck, wetting Bilbo's skin and shirt. Slowly but surely he stopped crying, making babbling sounds of comfort at the soft rocking and the smell of home.

 

Bilbo let his face softly smile down at the small dwarfling in his arms, the dwarf's clothes were torn, wore down, and with strange rusted stains. The small boy may have been dirty, but he was still a child, and children got dirty, very dirty. With a small amount of excretion he moved the small lad back from the cover of his neck. The dwarf's face was covered with dry tears, snot, and dirt. Chuckling Bilbo whipped away most of the mess with his handkerchief.

 

Letting the dwarf hold on to him Bilbo began to survey the group, most were peeking out of their hiding spots. Only four were blatantly out in the open, two shared the same face as the dwarf in his arms, only they looked to be a bit older, their eyes watching with fear. The other two looked quite different from the other two, they looked older and had much 'harder' looks to their faces.

 

“Now then, would someone like to tell me what this is all about?” Bilbo kept his voice light, but disappointed. He was well practiced in the ways of children, he babysat for his cousins and neighbors on many occasions. He was happily dubbed as the Shire's favorite babysitter.

 

Sniffling the little boy in his arms made a small tug on his shirt, glancing down at the dwarf Bilbo watched the four from the corner of his eye. Looking at the small carrot topped boy, he noticed the tears returning. Crinkling the corner of his eyes, he gave a small smile and spook softly, “Well what is it you wish to say, my lad?”

 

At those very words the whole atmosphere of the kitchen changed. The children soon watched with rapt interest as he spook soothingly to their smallest group member. Two of the children wearily moved foreword, their eyes hesitant and body language timid. Noticing that there wasn't going to be a change of pace anytime soon he pulled out a chair and huffed as he sat down, emotionally exhausted from what just happened.

 

Shifting the small dwarf till he was comfortably sitting on Bilbo's knee, Bilbo gave a small biscuit to him. He quickly stuffed the biscuit into his mouth, inhaling the small piece of bread. Giving a small laugh Bilbo handed the dwarf another, by this time the two children with similar features to the one of his lap were but a few feet away. Whipping way the crumbs on the carrot top dwarf's mouth with a smile he let his body relax. He could handle children, at one point had to watch 26 children for two weeks, this he could handle.

 

Leaning back slowly he gave the dwarf in his lap another biscuit, keeping his hands on either side to keep the small dwarf from falling he gave a quick turn of his head to look at the two slowly inching foreword. Turning his gaze back to the dwarf in his lap with a sad shake of his head when the other two ran back to the other end of the table. What could have caused these children to be so fearful of him, he hadn't even yelled at them yet.

 

Speaking softly, but loud enough so that the whole group could hear him, he made his introduction, “I'm Bilbo Baggins, a Baggin of Bag End. Bag End is where you currently are, and messing up my kitchen might I add. And you, my fine dwarf, who might you be?”

 

“Ori!” Ori replied, his cheeks full of biscuit and his brown eyes glimmered with childish joy, “Sorry about you kitchen, Bilbo Baggins.”

 

Chuckling Bilbo whipped down the corners of Ori's mouth with his thumb,”It is no problem, my boy. I will just have to clean it up, and my hallways too. Now pray tell me as to why I have thirteen little dwarrows running around my kitchen.”

 

“It is none of your business!” A dark hair child cried, he was one of the four that had come out of hiding to watch Bilbo. His hair longer than the others, dark black with braids woven through out, and his icy blue eyes set in childish stubbornness. His clothes a royal blue with many decorations and a thick fur coat, all covered in dirt. His fist trembled at his sides as his eyes watched with childish mourning as another biscuit met its cruel fate in Ori's mouth.

 

“I do believe it is my business, you are after all in my home.” Bilbo shot back with logic, his tone scolding the dark haired dwarf. His eyes wondered over the group that now peered at him openly, their hungry eyes fallowing every bit of food that made its way to Ori's mouth. “But I suppose that your explanation will have to wait, first let us get some food in you.”

 

The cheers of the group rang out through the once empty home of Bag End. Bilbo smiled and set Ori down on the chair he previously occupied. Swiftly leaving the room to fetch his cake and remove his jacket, he returned to the kitchen with a boxed cake in hand and his parcel nestled in the crook of his elbow.

 

His kitchen was the same as when he left it, but now it was filled with more chairs. The dirt was luckily contained to just the kitchen and the hallway leading to it. He was happy that the children had enough sense to whip off their feet, if only it hadn't been on his fathers painted footstool. With another head count he noted that the dark haired child sat at the head of the table and the others huddled into groups.

 

His assumption had been proven correct, the two of the four had been related to Ori. As the two were currently huddled around the small carrot top child. The other two children were sitting closely, but not like the groups around them, just friends then Bilbo noted.

 

He was also very thankful that the children didn't touch his mother's fine china, but instead got out the regular dining wear. Many were assorted and didn't match, others were chipped and faded with time. Carefully setting down the box and removing the cake, it was a large birthday cake with icing and pleasant words written on top. He had asked for regular yellow cake and white frosting, no candles, and it appeared like every year that the baker had filled his order flawlessly.

 

The children gave a gasp of joyous surprise, their faces lit up with the thought of enjoying the sweet treat in front of them. Their mouths filled with drool at the thought of just having a mouthful of the glorious concoction of mastered bakery. The hatted dwarf, who's hat was way too big for the little boy, tilted his head and made special note of the words written with scrolled blue icing, “Happy birthday” they read pleasantly. The hatted dwarf's voice high with age and excitement spoke loudly, “It's your birth day!”

 

The whole room suddenly erupted with congratulations, their voices high and pleasant. The rooms in his house no longer felt empty or cold, instead they felt alive and warm with the happiness of children. Bilbo laughed in bathed in the warmth that flowed through the room, serving each of the children a piece of cake, some left over soup, all of his biscuits, and some smoked ham on sour bread. The hungry little dears eating up most of his food, but he couldn't find any reason to hold resentment. It was good to spend his birth day with some company, proper edict be damned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Releasing early because this was going to be one very, very long one shot if i didn't

  It had been a hellish afternoon trying to get thirteen dwarflings to take a bath, and just as hard to keep them in it. Bilbo softly cursed as he removed his wet shirt from his cold body, the children hadn't been too pleased to be set in a tub full of water. He had learned all of their names over lunch, and then he had bathed them in the hierarchy of their system.

 

First had come Thorin, not the oldest of the group, but of noble birth. His clothes spoke that well enough, fine furs and clothe decorated with expensive jewels and metal. He had a confident stride and an even more confident commanding tone. His stance, even at a young age was majestic and showed the right to rule, Bilbo made a special note to send word to Bree about the group.

 

Thorin had been very difficult, not letting Bilbo clean his hair. He had gotten into the tub with relative ease, but after that everything went down hill. He would start to growl anytime Bilbo offered to help him, and had left a nasty bite mark on the hobbit's skin when Bilbo tried to untangle his hair.

 

Bilbo flung up his arms in exasperation, this child was being so difficult. He couldn't help but wonder if he was this bad as a child, maybe this was what his mother complained about with such abundance. Grumbling he moved closer again, carefully avoiding Thorin's hair. “I hope I wasn't as bad as you when my mother would make me bathe.”

 

“I would come in covered in scrapes and bruises, with twigs in my hair, and mud caked all over my body. My mother would throw me into the tub and scrub me till I shined. Then she would give me a big meal and a scolding about proper bathing. I can only hope I wasn't as bad as you.” Bilbo chuckled as he scrubbed down Thorin's back, careful of a small bruise.

 

Thorin stayed silent for a few moments, before looking at his hands. “When will she be back? I saw her room, it looks as if she's been gone all day.”

 

He gave a small pause, his hands shaking as he dropped the sponge. “My parents wont be back, ever Thorin. They are gone from this world, on to a much better place, I lost them quite a few years ago.”

 

Bilbo watched as Thorin's shoulders went ridged, the dwarf's hands freezing in the task of untangling the knotted black hair. Thorin's voice matched his own in its sadness and carefully concealed pain. “I also lost my mother. I... I never knew my mother, what was yours like?”

 

The two of them spent the rest of the bath filled with stories, of a brave young hobbit woman and how a bunch of dwarrows lost their kingdom to a fierce dragon's lust for gold. As they untangled Thorin's hair Bilbo told Thorin about his mother's brash adventures and how she courted a very respectable Baggins. Thorin told stories of his people's dangerous journey after being exiled from their home.

 

As Bilbo should have figured the dwarrows were ambushed on their way to the Blue mountains by the unsavory folk, who had been hanging too close to the Shire's boarders for comfort. The young dwarrows had been separated from the rest of the group and then made their way through the Shire, hiding from the hobbits and the few rangers coming to check on the little people. The group had then stumbled upon Bilbo's garden and raided his kitchen.

 

He just gave a nod of understanding. Rubbing the young dwarf down, before going to fetch some of his clothes from when he was but a lad. His old clothes wouldn't fit any of the group properly, but it would have to do until he mended, cleaned, and/or made new ones for his current house guest.

 

Next, to Bilbo's displeasure came Dwalin and Balin. The two were well behaved enough, but Dwalin was rather rambunctious and wasn't very careful with where his arms flung. Bilbo had to duck a couple of times, purposely avoiding the bar of soap that Dwalin had in his hands. He was just having a fun time enjoying the bubbles. He had sworn his brother to secrecy, he was the biggest and strongest of the group, he wasn't supposed to like silly things like bubbles.

 

Leaning over to help Balin clean the oldest dwarf's feet Bilbo didn't see the soft bar of soap leave Dwalin's hands. He also didn't see said bar of soap till it hit him in the face. Falling over and clutched his face, tears streaming out of his eyes to remove the offending suds.

 

Cursing loudly he lumbered over to the sink to try to wash out his eye, the water burned just as much as the soap. Turning with a sigh of relief when his eyes were clean of the burn, red and puffy, but he could see again. Hiding his face in a hand towel, he didn't want to know just how pathetic he looked to the little dwarflings in his tub. As Dwalin's crying reached a new volume he wrenched his face out of the fluffy barrier.

 

The little Mohawk dwarf's face was scrunched up in fear, fat tears leaking from his closed eyes. His cries loud and shrill, apologies spewing endlessly from the young dwarf's mouth. Balin fallowing suit, both of them begging not to be thrown out, crying that it was an accident, and that they would be good from now on.

 

Acting quickly, Bilbo scooped up the two into his largest towel and cradled their wet bodies to him. His voice soft and low shushing them with kisses and rocking, he was forced to sit down on the wet ground with the imposing weight of two dwarflings. He purposely ignored the water wetting his shirt and skin, his main focus on calming two crying dwarflings.

 

“I would never throw you two out,” Bilbo spoke softly, alternating between kissing Dwalin's and Balin's head. His voice raising, but keeping its soft and loving edge. “I don't know who would throw you boys out, but if they so much as consider it, I will give them a piece of my mind that they will never forget. As long as you boys are here you are under my care, and that mean no matter what you do I will always take care of you. Even after you boys are all grown up, you will always be welcome in my home.”

 

The two had calmed down tremendously, their faces bright with joy. It had taken a lot of work to convince the two to let go of him, and after getting them dressed he had to shove the two out of the room in order to bathe Fili and Kili next.

 

The two had been worse than Thorin, constantly running way, and purposely getting water everywhere. Bilbo had to resort to begging the two to stay still and promised that if they behaved then he would tell them a story.

 

“What kind of story Mister Boggins?” Kili cheekily asked, his face full of curiosity.

 

“Oh, just one about a king defeating a huge dragon and winning back his kingdom.” Bilbo said nonchalantly. Glancing at the two now excitedly jumping boys he knew he had them wrapped around his finger. “You boys wouldn't be interested in it. You're much too young.”

 

“Oh, please Mister Baggins! Tell us, please! Please!” Fili and Kili begged their eyes pleading.

 

“All right, It started out when the world was still young and our respectable creators still walked the earth with little care...” Bilbo wove them a story of how a dwarf king fought against a foul army of evil and defeated the most fearsome dragon to ever live. The boys eagerly listening as they were cleaned, they would make joyous noises every time something went in the hero's favor and booing cries every time something went wrong. The two were thoroughly cleaned by the time Bilbo had reached the end, and were drying them off when he told the fearsome end.

 

Making growling sound he chased the two around reenacting the final battle between the hero and the dragon. Chasing the two into the guest room to change he finished up the story, not noticing Thorin watching with eyes trying to see the future. “And so, after the vile dragon was slayed on his very precious pile of gold, and the king drew back his sword triumphantly. His stance proud and regal, for he had won. He had reclaimed his kingdom and its riches, he gave the fair shares he had promised to all those who helped and gained more friends and allies that day. He then ruled his kingdom fairly and his people prospered. He is forever sung about and praised by his people, for he was a dragon slayer and a good king, he was their king.”

 

Dori, Nori, and Ori were already in the tub when he returned. Dori mothering his brothers into being clean. Nori pouting and trying to find ways out of his older brother's hold. Bilbo merely offered his assistance, Dori taking care of mostly everything and just needing Bilbo to hold certain body parts to be cleaned, mostly feet.

 

“But, Mama Dori!” Ori whined, “I already bathed last week.”

 

Dori turned a flushed red, glancing over at Bilbo he hurriedly explained, “Ori calls me that 'cause we don't see mom very often. She's usually busy with work, so- he just calls me that because he doesn't know any better.”

 

Bilbo snickered, “I know how that is, my older cousins would dress me up as a girl and call me their little sister. They had only wanted a baby sister and I seemed to fit the bill so to speak.”

 

Giggling Nori and Ori began to refer to Bilbo and Nori as, Auntie Bilbo and Mama Dori. Nori making a right fun game of it, trying to see who's face could get redder between the older two. He really was having a right fun time, till Ori said that Nori should also be a girl, at that Nori went quiet and pouted. Bilbo had to lift him up saying just how manly the little star headed dwarf was in order to get him dressed.

 

Gloin and Oin came after, they were just a rowdy as Dwalin, but not as rambunctious as Fili and Kili. The two brothers were just happy to talk about their father and mother.

 

Gloin, Bilbo noticed, would talk really loud, his voice would echo and his hands would reinforce what he was saying. His hands would map out just what he was talking about. He was just a fierce when it came to taking care of his hair as Thorin, but he hadn't bit the hobbit yet. He was much more inclined to have Bilbo wash his face.

 

Oin would simply just watch the two or talk with a strange accent. He would constantly be surprised by Bilbo's movements, particularly when the hobbit was out of eye sight. He would jump every time something would touch his back and didn't flinch when Gloin accidentally knocked over a towel rack with the younger brother's arm movements.

 

Bilbo's suspicions were fully aroused when Oin didn't replay to his question on what towel the dwarf would like to use. Trying again he called out louder, “Oin? Oin.”

 

His voice kept climbing till it echoed through his bathroom. He raised an eyebrow when Gloin made a snarling noise. The younger dwarf making a rueful face before talking.

 

“He can't hear you. My brother is hard of hearing.”

 

Oin realized that the hobbit had been calling for him the whole time. Biting on his lip, he gave Bilbo an apologetic look before nodding his head. He was used to people being angry at him for not answering back, he couldn't help it if he couldn't hear them. He could read their lips, he always knew what rude words they would speak. Which was why shock flared across his face when he read the lips of their hobbit.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know, it should have been obvious, really. My aunt was hard of hearing herself, she was very good at reading lips. Are you good at reading lips Oin?”

 

Bilbo was soon swamped with splashes and cheerful cries, all bad mood previously forgotten. He spent much of the time switching between listening to Gloin talk about their father and Oin talk about how the dwarf learned to read lips. He was subjected to the two fighting for attention as he forced the two into some clothes, after chasing down Gloin.

 

Gloin had thought it would have been alright to run around as naked as the day he was born, he ran past the rest of the group to get his brother and him some more food. He pouted when a wet hobbit finally caught him, he didn't like pants. Pants were restricting, he really didn't see the point of clothes.

 

Finally, Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur came last. The three were the messiest of the group and their clothes in the worst condition. The only thing that wasn't in complete shambles had been Bofur's hat, and Bifur's gloves. While the Ri brothers had been the easiest to bathe, these three were the most complaint with Bilbo's wishes.

 

Bilbo stared in surprise and confusion when Bifur started making hand gestures and growling sounds. The words and the gestures were harsh, and in his opinion; violent. Looking at the other two in confusion, Bilbo glanced worriedly between the scar on Bifur's forehead, and the brothers' faces.

 

“Bifur says thank you,” Bofur stated helpfully. He was busy trying to help Bombur with the larger dwarf's sideburns, his own hair being taken care of by his cousin.

 

“He can't speak conman tongue, not after he fell off a cliff when he was much younger. He's really smart though, he can fix stuff and make really cool carvings. He know what's going on around him, he just doesn't feel the need to talk to people who wont listen to him.” Bombur stated, his eyes burning with pride for his older cousin.

 

Bifur made didn't make any hand movements during the explanation, his eyes down cast and body language defeated. His hands mindlessly making the hand movement that Bilbo would latter know meant, please understand. He was begging Bilbo to understand, but not forcing the hobbit to try to like him. He was used to others avoiding him, thinking that he was stupid because he couldn't always say what he wanted to, many thinking he was a burden. Men would look down at him and sneer, they would always comment on how it was a pity he didn't die in the fall.

 

Carefully Bilbo began to clean Bifur's hair, purposeful petting the scar with affectionate hands, the dwarfling looking up at him in surprise. He just hummed and carried on with cleaning out Bifur's mop of hair. His voice turned to a admiring tone, “There's no way I would be able to claim I am that smart, and you are very, very smart Bifur. Probably one of the smartest dwarrows ever, especially being able to all that, I have trouble just fixing the door.”

 

Bifur made a strangled cat call before trying to crawl onto Bilbo's lap, pulling his soaking body out of the tub and spilling water everywhere. After nearly bonking his head again he was pulled in to Bilbo's lap, clicking his tongue he buried his face into the hobbit's soft stomach. Bofur and Bombur soon trying to join their cousin in snuggling with their hobbit host.

 

The three had been easy to dress, but Bilbo had to fetch his father's clothes for Bombur. The dwarf was just too big for anything that he could have ever fit into in his youth. He let out a laugh when Bofur insisted on wearing his hat and refused to let him clean the scraggy old thing. Shoving the three out he told them to wait til he got changed. It was a short process of removing his cold and wet clothes that stuck to his body and putting on dry warm clothes, but dwarrows were impatient little beings.

 

Ushering the three into his living room, with a warm fire going in the hearth and the rest of the group sprawling out on the floor. The company took up random positions on the floor and furniture. Gloin and Oin huddled closely to the fire, Oin sitting back and watching as Gloin poked at the fire. Thorin sat in one of the more “impressive” chairs of Bag End, sitting as a king might. Nori sat a bit away from his brothers, his hands occupied with some string from his sewing kit, Ori and Dori were fiddling with Bilbo's knitting basket. Dwalin and Balin were playing close to Thorin's seat, their hands and heads moving in a strange game. Fili and Kili going from group to group, but usually bothering their Uncle.

 

Bilbo watched as Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur waddled over to the large loveseat, his eyes grazing over the group of dwarrows with affection. He was greeted with the cry of ten dwarflings as he carefully picked a route to his chair. As soon as he sat down his lap was occupied by Dwalin and Balin, he let them snuggle into his chest as he thought of where his guest would be staying.

 

Bag End had plenty of rooms, but he didn't have six extra rooms just waiting to be used by guest. Bilbo looked over his guest making guesses of who would want to sleep with whom, Thorin would demand a separate room. Gloin and Oin would want to sleep together, the Ri brothers would be the same. He would make sure that Bifur, who would be sleeping with Bofur and Bombur, would in a room closest to him, Fili and Kili wouldn't be parted for the world. Balin and Dwalin would want to be together as well, but he only had four bedrooms in Bag End. He would have to make some changes to his guest rooms, but even then he wouldn't have enough room for all of the dwarrows. He had a few rooms, such as rooms that belonged to his parents; his mother's sewing room, his parents' smoking room, his father's carving room or his father's library.

 

He would have to move his parents things and rearrange the room, as well as pack up their things and move them from their resting place. Swallowing he moved the two off of his lap, answering their whines with he will be right back.

 

“Where are you going Mister Bilbo?” Dori's voice asked curiously, his hands untangling Ori from the net Nori had made.

 

“I'm going to switch around a room is all, I'll be right back.”

 

Thorin watched as the hobbit left, his eyes untrusting. Slipping out of his seat, ignoring his nephews cries for attention, he fallowed the hobbit. Waddling behind their host he watched with uncertainty as Bilbo turned into a room. A sacred room. His eyes widened with horror as he watched the hobbit pile things into boxes and wrapping up little figurines. “What are you doing Halfling?”

 

Bilbo flinched at the accusing tone the dwarf used, his eyes meeting Thorin's. The dwarf's fist were shaking and icy blue eyes filling with tears. He understood Thorin, he was also upset, but it had been thirteen years since his parents' death, he was done mourning.

 

“I'm making this room a guest room. It's about time really, and you dwarrows need a place to sleep.” Bilbo answered with a shaky smile, he may have been done mourning, but the pain of not seeing the familiar comfort that the room provided was stinging. “I think that it's time for me to move on, and I think that they'd be happy about it.”

 

“How could they be happy when you'll forget them!” The dwarf's tears freely streaming down his face. He remembered everything, he wouldn't forget, he wore his family seal and armor with pride because he feared that if he didn't he would forget. He feared that he would be come complacent with the hand that fate had dealt his people, he feared that he would forget what had happened to his people's home.

 

Placing the last figurine carefully in the box, he would place everything in a trunk in his father's closet, Bilbo spoke with knowledge that one at his age shouldn't poses. “Thorin, I will never forget my mother and father, never. I will always remember how my mother smelled; I will always remember how my father laughed. I will remember them always, and nothing will change that, not even having my house overrun with little dwarrows.”

 

He had said the last sentence in good humor, but Thorin had let out a horrid cry. Scooping up the dwarf into his embrace with sounds of cooing reassurance, Thorin let him pepper the dwarf's head with kisses. It had taken a lot of reassuring to calm down the dwarf, whispering how much he needed the dwarrows had the best affect on Thorin. He hadn't said it out loud before, but his home was an empty shell of what it once was, and these little rowdy children had made it feel like home again.

 

These children made him feel like he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With love!  
> Next chapter is in the works, will be up soonish.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update! And just on time, I would have more, but helping with a wedding and the reception takes more energy than I thought...

It had been almost two months, three weeks, and four days since he had sent word of 13 missing dwarvish children, and he still hadn't received any word. Nothing. No one had sent any letters, there was no rumors of dwarrows in the area. Absolutely nothing. 

By Hobbit Law, any child unclaimed in two months time; who's parents will either be claimed as dead or abusive, will be entrusted to their closest family relative. If there is no remaining family, than the provider of the child will become the child's guardian.

Thus, Bilbo had now spontaneously inherited 13 rowdy children.

His boys were mostly well behaved, but only Ori got along with the other hobbit children. He had suffered through more lectures than he could count, but he would defend his boys, they were dwarrows, not hobbits. His boys, like most dwarrows, were strong and hardy. The complete opposite of hobbit children, who were soft and didn't like playing with toy swords. It had taken a month, until most of the Shire excepted his boys to act like young dwarrows, but many still demanded he “train” them to be like proper hobbits. But like he said before, his boys were dwarrows. Most of the Shire loved his boy too, even if his boys had a hard time telling male from female.

Ori, bless the lad's soul, was much smaller than any of the others. He wasn't strong or big, he liked books and knitting. He didn't like playing Orcs and Knights with Fili and Kili, or wondering around with Nori. He liked to sit down and watch Bilbo write, knit, sew, and read. He liked Bilbo, he unlike quite a few of the dwarrows, mainly Thorin, Fili, and Kili, was more than alright with staying in Bag End til they were adults. He liked sitting by Bilbo, whom he called Aunty, and in his defense Nori and Dori did it too, and just being. He liked not having to fight with others to survive. He liked how dispite his size or strength Auntie loved him, and if he happened to pants a hobbit being rude to his Auntie, then that was his business.

Nori was a bit on the small side, and he wasn't strong like his brother Dori, but that didn't mean that he couldn't take Dwalin down in a few seconds flat. What he lacked in size and strength, he made up for it in cunning and speed. He liked sewing, and Dwalin can shut up about it, it was a manly thing. He liked how his Auntie let him sew up anything, he liked it how Auntie was always around, but not smothering like Dori. He loved how Auntie didn't care that he wasn't strong, he loved the praise that Auntie gave about how fast and clever he was, he loved it all. And if the neighbors were missing a few things after badmouthing his Auntie, no one would be the wiser.

Dori was abnormally strong, he had learned to control it most of the time. He didn't mean to break things, like tea cups or chair handles. He liked how his Auntie didn't get mad, but his Auntie noticed when he didn't brake something and would praise him endlessly. He like the little things, like tea and scones, he didn't like hobbits who spoke badly about his Auntie. He and Nori were just fine with now being in the care of Auntie because they both knew that their mother didn't want them. It was never spoken, but they knew, they saw the looks that she had given them. They were fine staying with their Auntie, the one who wanted them, even if he broke things, even if Nori had sticky fingers, and even if Ori wasn't a “proper” dwarf. They were just fine staying with Auntie, and he wasn't sorry about moving a few 50 pound bags of manure, so that a specific neighbor couldn't open the door.

Thorin didn't like hobbit children, they just didn't understand how things were done. They didn't understand that the world was cruel, he did though. He made sure that his people, only numbering in 13 because his Mama was one of them, was looked after and knew life was cruel. Sure Mama could claim to be a dad, but he already had an Adad. And his Mama would just have to accept that when Adad came to get them, that Bilbo was coming too, then he would have two homes; Erebor and Bag End. He liked it at Bag End, even though he didn't like anyone who said mean things about his Mama because Mama was affectionate no matter where they were. Adad wasn't, but adads weren't supposed to mother their children, that's what mamas were for, and he loved both his Adad and Mama, no matter what that snotty Gamgee said.

Fili, whom was hard to think separate from his brother, liked his big brother. His big brother told him many stories, stories of kings, dragons, knights, and far away lands. He couldn't read very well, not like Ori could, so he loved it when his big brother would set him on the hobbit's knee and read a story. He loved it when his big brother would let him and Kili curl up and tell them any story that came to mind. He liked how his big brother didn't try to separate him from Kili, no his brother treated them like two different people, but still let him stay close to his twin. He liked it here, and when Mom came to get them, she would take his big brother with them, then every thing would be complete.

Kili loved his oldest brother, he didn't like the other hobbit children who said he was odd. He wasn't odd, both his brothers told him so. He liked his oldest brother, he liked him a lot, his oldest brother didn't get mad at him for being loud or a little slow. No, like his Mom, oldest brother was nice when trying to make him understand what he did was wrong. His oldest brother didn't get mad at him like the other hobbits for coming home with all manor of beast and dragging in mud and leafs. Yes, he and Fili may have painted the Sackville-Boggins faces with ink, and no, no one could prove it, Nori said so.

Gloin liked his Uncle's home, it was nice and he could run around in what ever he felt like. That's what fences were for, privacy, as his Uncle like to say. He still had to wear clothes when he needed to leave Bag End or when company was over, but even then he only did it 'cause his Uncle said so. He liked being free. His Uncle didn't yell at him for being loud, it wasn't his fault that Oin couldn't hear him if he didn't shout. He liked it with his Uncle, Uncle didn't get upset when he expressed his love for fire by lighting a tree on fire. Uncle wasn't mad when they broke a window together, it wasn't his fault that the hammer slipped, Adad would have laughed at them too. It also wasn't his fault that a child from the market had a broken nose for calling his Uncle mad, he knew Adad would be proud of him.

Oin liked his Uncle, his Uncle didn't get mad when he couldn't hear what was being said. He liked it with Uncle, Adad would come soon and would like Uncle too, that much he knew. He liked it here, he liked the plants and the books upon books of herbs, he wanted to be like his great grandfather. He wanted to be one of the best healers ever, and his Uncle was encouraging of it. Many made fun of him, claiming he couldn't do it when he couldn't even hear, but Uncle said he would be a fantastic healer. Marvelous was the exact word Uncle used. He liked when his Uncle would sit down and help him pronounce the herbs and terms he needed to know. He also liked how Uncle claimed he was innocent when a certain hobbit got a nasty rash after getting a little to friendly with his Uncle.

Bofur liked his Uncle, he really liked that his Uncle would let him dig where ever he wanted. He could dig up the whole front yard, again, and Uncle would be alright with it; as long as he didn't touch the tomatoes. He liked gardening, his family had always enjoyed digging, and it was fun to see something he worked at explode with life. It was a lot like mining from what his Adad had told him, being patent with the earth and rock, and listening to what the stones, in this case plants, tell you and you'll get your reward. He did, he had the prettiest Snowdrops ever, Uncle said so. And if he wrestled a grown hobbit to the ground for insulting his Uncle's work, than he was just defending his family's honor.

Bifur liked his Adad, he liked his new home a lot. He liked how nothing was too high up and how his new Adad didn't mind that he had a hard time saying what he wanted to. He liked how he got a whole room for carving, even if he had to share it with Kili and Fili sometimes, Adad was there to see his work, not put up with two annoying twins. He liked how Adad didn't move everything after he asked, he liked how Adad had changed around their new home for them. The old smoking room was turned into their own play room. He had carved many of the toys, and if he preened under his Adad's attention that was his business, no matter what the youngest of the line of Durin had to say. He wasn't sorry about the arm he broke, no one, not even a grown man from Bree, tried to harm his Adad and got away with it. No one.

Bombur liked hobbits, just for their eating habits. He liked eating seven meals a day, he liked never going hungry. He liked that his Uncle would give him an extra serving or two with a smile. He really liked it when Uncle would let him help with making the meals, he could cook for the whole group if he wanted too, and Uncle had let him a few times. Uncle would praise him over and over, til he was blushing and stuttering under the praise, he liked that too. Bag End was home, even if Thorin reminded them that Erebor was too, and he liked every part of it. Especially the kitchen, and the scoldings that Uncle gave another child for making fun of him, he believes Uncle, that little girl was just jealous of his sideburns.

Balin, he liked it here, he liked his new parent. He loved his Mama, he likes Mama's library too. It's big and full of maps, and Mama lets him do what he pleases as long as nothing is ruined. He likes sleeping with Mama, Dwalin does too, he liked his bed, but he liked being with Mama more. Since his father died, no one was really around to make sure Dwalin and him were looked after, but Mama wanted them. Mama even loved him after he came back from an adventure; he had ruined one of Mama's favorite maps, but Mama just scolded him. Mama also made him promise to be back before sundown, or else he wouldn't get desert. Cuddling though, was by far his favorite thing about being with Mama, Dwalin and him would crawl onto Mama's lap and just enjoy their Mama's affection. And if anyone ever called his Mama a bad name or was rude to Mama they wont be able to walk ever again, or eat solid foods.

Dwalin loved his Mama, he love how he could just drag home anything and Mama would tell him how good he was. He loved how Mama would give him extra cookies, loved how he could practice his axes with Mama's endless praise, and he loved how Mama would kiss his forehead when he did something good. He knew that many of the adult dwarrows didn't like Balin and him, they were one of the few children to survive the dragon, and when their Adad went missing, Adad can't be killed, not before filling an oath, the group had only looked after them when it was necessary. Balin and him had gone hungry many a nights; just like Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, but Mama loved them and cared for them. Even when he broke a few things, half the sitting room, Mama didn't throw them out, Mama had just scolded him and asked him to be careful. So, if anyone so much as looked at his Mama the wrong way, then they just breathed their last breath.

Bilbo, snorted as he watched Dwalin snarl and growl at a farmer's dog, the boy had a strong grip he noted with thinned lips. He leaned up against Miss Rosie's vegetable stall and watched as Balin encouraged Dwalin to wrestle with the poor dog.

Rosie just laughed, “Your boy is pretty energetic.”

He hummed in response, Dwalin was only energetic when it came to a few things; eating, “training”, cookies, and cuddles. Right now, his boy was training, and might hurt someone in the process.

Rosie watched with amusement as her husband's boss tried to herd his two boys, Balin and Dwalin, back over to her stall. She liked the two, they were like her oldest sometimes, over protective. If someone, person or animal, gave Bilbo a dirty look the boys were ready to take care of the “problem”. And they weren't even the worst ones, the worst was Thorin, the little boy wouldn't even give someone a warning before attacking them for his “khagun”, as the three liked to call Bilbo. “Just the usual groceries then?”

“Yes, please and thank you Rosie,” Bilbo gave her a grateful smile, she was one of the most understanding hobbits when it came to his sudden adoption of 13 rambunctious boys. She also gave him the best advice on where to hide his fragile house items. “How has sales been, run the Longbottoms back to the Took yard yet?”

“Unfortunately not.” She snorted as Dwalin began to whine about too many vegetables, “They're good for you. Now you two, you see that farmer on the other side of the road, tell me is that a man or a woman.”

Bilbo watched with a worried glance as Dwalin and Balin narrowed their eyes at Mister Gunner Longbottom. The boys taking in the hobbits, face and hair, paying little to no attention to the bright flannel shirt or the brown pants. After talking quietly, the two turned back to him with certainty, his boys' chest pushed out proudly, “Woman!”

After hearing the cry Mr. Gunner turned with an over-dramatic huff, his eyes glaring over the two dwarrows and sending a disappointed look to Bilbo. Packing up the small stand to move to the other side of the market place, grumbling loudly about Mad Baggins and dwarrows. Not even showing a bit of remorse Rosie just continued on packing up her customer's products, “Problem solved.”

“You're awful.” Bilbo sighed into his hand, really she was. But it wasn't her fault, at least not all of it. Balin and Dwalin had been taught the differences between a man and a woman by dwarrows, who established sex by braids in their hair and beards. Which meant that they two had a very, very hard time deciding if someone was a man or a women if they had no facial hair. Unless of course it was blatantly stated during introductions, like hobbits, dwarrows didn't care about gender-rolls. If a man wanted to run around in a skirt, dwarrows called them kilts, then that was fine. And dwarf-women didn't wear dresses unless there was a party or if they were of high-class royalty. So his boys just ignored how everyone dressed, which helped explain Gloin's opposition of wearing clothes.

“Thank you, Rosie,” he smiled at his friend and neighbor as he was handed his wraped goods to last him a few days. Placing the food in his basket, which was ripped from his grip by a fuming Balin. The normally calm and pleasant boy was hissing and sending vicious glares in Gunner's direction, Dwalin was only placated by his hand, that was losing feeling. “Come one boys, lets go home, heavens know Fili and Kili are driving everyone wild.”

Dwalin waved goodbye to the hobbit, he liked her, she was nice to Mama. She never said mean things to Mama, she was just honest. Dwalin liked that, he liked honesty, his Mama was honest. “Why didn't you let us teach that THING a lesson, Khagun?”

Bilbo sighed, Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin had taken to calling him that, it was cute in an obnoxious way. “Because that would be rude, and as a said before, I don't care what anyone thinks of me. That isn't my priority, my priority is to look after all of you, you all are my boys.”

Dwalin nodded an hid his face in his Mama's pants, he liked that the most. He loved how Mama loved and took care of them, but he mostly just loved Mama. Balin agreed.

Balin tightened his grip, “But they're rude to you and shoot you dirty looks, we don't care about them. We care about you, Khagun, and if anyone tries to hurt you or our family name, than it's our duty to defend.”

Shaking his head with a small smile, Bilbo decided it was best not to comment, his boys knew how they felt and he would respect that. Swinging their conjoined hands, he happily smiled and hummed as they walked calmly back to their home.

Bag End had never felt so lively, at lest not since he was a boy. The house was always filled with filled with noise, even at night. There were always cuddles, he was never alone, and he had never made so much food in his life. He had never thought that he would have to put in more shelves in order to hold all the “gifts” his boys had given him. All of which he excepted with a smile, even the mud Fili and Kili brought back, the puke green scarf that Ori knitted, the broken dager Thorin found, the burnt cookies Dwalin made, the rock scones Dori baked, the salve that burned that Oin made him, the dead plant that Bofur first had, the sweater with the squiggles that Nori embroidered, the small clothe that Gloin first ever wore, the first words in common that Bifur messily scribbled on a napkin, the map Balin had destroyed to make a hat, and the lop sided pot that Bombur made to make soup in.

He liked being home, even when Kili or Ori would throw a tantrum, even when Thorin would break things in rage, or when Dori's super strength got the best of the dwarf. He love his home and his boys. Even if Dwalin, Balin, and Bifur would attack anyone who even looked at him wrong. Even if Fili and Nori contently got into trouble. Even if Gloin shouted at the top of his lungs, or when Bombur would eat everything in the pantry. He loved his boys, and they loved him. And if a letter never shows up, then that was just fine with him. If no one ever came to try to get back 13 dwarven children, then that was even better. They were his boys, and if someone tried to argue other wise, he had some very strong words for them.

And if when he opened the gate to their home only he was mobbed by his boys, it didn't make him any less of a man to cry at the thought of losing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out soon!  
> Thank you all!  
> And thank you all who helped out with my Anthro problem, you both are fantastic!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suddenly it got all angsty and stuff...

_Everything was dark, he couldn't feel his left arm, and his one good eye isn't working like it should. The sounds of dripping was every where, echoing, reminding him he couldn't leave. The whipping was by far the worst part, a reminder that no mater what he suffers threw he will never leave. The orcs with their twisted smiles were a constant, the goblins sneers always reminding him that he lost everything. He failed, he failed his father, his children, his grandchildren, his people, his ancestors, and his best friend._

 

_Laying down was good, he couldn't die, they wouldn't let him. But this, just laying in the cold stone, smelling the sodding filth and mold, his wounds only a dull throb. He shouldn't hunger for the sunlight, but he did, he was starving for anything that wasn't dead and decaying. He didn't know what he eat, he knew better than to ask, but he knew. He knew that he now knew the taste of dwarf, elf, orc, and man. It was good to just lay down and try to forget._

 

_Why was his arm being pulled, no orc could climb down where he was. Glancing up he saw the face, it looked like Fundin. He must be worse than he thought, he had to be hallucinating._

 

_I'm no dream, old friend. Now lets get your sodding ass out of here._

 

The bed jolted with his movements, his legs kicking off the sheets, and his arms swinging his ax. It took him a long time to calm down, he calmed down only after the satisfying thump of his ax burying itself into the wall.

 

Gasping he looked around with his good eye, the room was normal for an inn. The was sturdy, but cheep, the bed was like sleeping on rocks, and it had a distinct smell of alcohol. Breathing in deeply he remembered, he was at an inn called the Prancing Pony. He wasn't in that orc pit, not anymore. He was almost sane. Fundin, oh dear Mahal, Fundin had got him out.

 

His best friend Fundin, who was gravely injured, who gave up his little boys to come and save him. Not for the first time he screamed into his hands, he could have stopped this, he could have. He could have stopped his father from trying to take back Azanulbizar, he could have stopped his father's sickness. He could have stopped everything.

 

His screaming must have woken up his children, he could hear Frerin's heavy footsteps and Dis's lighter ones running down the hall to him. As the door was flung open and light streamed in, burning his skin and eyes, he gave another shout ignoring his family. They shouldn't be seeing him like this.

 

“Khagam! Khagam, please stop, it's us, Khagam.” The please were accompanied by hands, the voices sounded like his daughter. He snarled at the clever goblins, trying to trick him again.

 

“Out.” He boomed, the goblins were smart, they left fast. Their sculls would be saved from his fists tonight. If they came back, he would kill them, he would kill them for trying to fool him. They weren't his children, his baby girl and strong boy were smarter than that. They knew better than to try to comfort a traumatized fool like him, they knew better.

 

Sobbing into his hands, he wondered, is this what the line of Durin has become. Have the great Durins become nothing more than just babbling old fools who couldn't help their people. Frerin tried so hard, his boy tried so hard to be the smith to help feed their people. Dis tried so hard, his girl tried so hard to be the musician or anything to help feed their people. But neither of his children knew how to lead, he had never taught them.

 

That was his fault, it was his fault again. He could hear the little whispers, sounding so much like orcs and goblins. It was his fault everything happened. It was his fault that his baby boy Thorin, his grandsons Fili and Kili, his best friends little boys Balin and Dwalin, his little cousins Dori, Nori, and Ori, and the best miner families only living descendents Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were lost. Maybe the children had been sold into slavery, or killed by the men who ambushed his people.

 

_It was all his fault._

 

* * *

 

Eating breakfast was an awkward affair, his son and daughter trying to be supportive, but knew he was too proud. Even Gimli couldn't meet his eye. He was glad to be on his way to regaining his son, grandsons, and family. He was glad to be away from the Prancing Pony.

 

He liked the Shire, it wasn't dark like the Blue mountains, it was bright and full of live. The opposite of the Azanulbizar. He glanced over the market as they passed, his family keeping a safe distance from him, his thoughts always revolved around his imprisonment. They knew he could have a flashback at anytime, but they wanted to stay close.

 

Thrain had asked his family and friends promise to stay back, he didn't want to snap another neck or break his daughter's arm again. No he couldn't live with him self after that, he didn't want to be locked up again, just so his family could keep him from taking his own life. He was fine without their comfort, he was just shattered.

 

Shaking his head with a fierce growl he tried to focus back on navigating the roads, he had to get back what was lost. First he would get back his lost children, then he would make the creature suffer for taking his kin.

 

He could only do that if he found his way to the damn place. The roads through the Shire were like a fucking maze, he thought viciously. The hobbits were clever in their tactics, no one would want to attack something they couldn't find, it was just smarter and easier to just give up.

 

Gimli had to lead them back a few times, but they made it. They made it to their children' prison. It was a cozy looking thing; with a pleasant looking fence; pleasing round, green door; and a sweet looking bench obviously well loved. It looked like a home rather than a prison. Snorting at himself he knew better, the finest royal apartments could be hell.

 

“Wait here,” He gave his family and friend the order with a kind nod.

 

“Are you sure?” Gimli questioned with a fierce look of his own, his little boys were there. He would obey his king, but it would come at a price.

 

Pausing to glance over his companions, Thrain nodded, it wasn't just his fight. It was also his family's. “Let's go.”

 

Stomping ahead of them, he won't let them suffer for his mistake, he knocked on the lush door. He was surprised to hear a shout of “in a second”. The kidnapper wasn't going to run away? Maybe Frerin was right, maybe this might have been a mis-

 

His breath left him as the little thing opened up the door, the hobbit was normal in its leafy elf ears, and curly hair. But the hobbit's eyes, they shined brighter than the arkenstone. Its hair was like fine copper with gold and fire woven in, and its nose was like the finest button of marble.

 

Thrain had envied Fundin, who's one was his wife. They both had arranged marriages, but only Fundin's was a happy one. When Fundin had children it was because he loved his wife, not because his father demanded an heir, a daughter, or a new heir. Fundin had what Thrain always wanted, to be madly in love with his one.

 

Gasping Thrain looked over the little thing, its eyes wide with fear, that wasn't right. He wasn't to be feared, not during the day, he wouldn't hurt the little hobbit. Opening up his mouth to try to console the hobbit he was cut off by the slamming of the door. Oh.

 

“Well that went well,” Gimli spoke with much joy. He liked hobbits, that Rosie fellow was such a nice hobbit lad. He knew that this Bilbo Baggins was nice and a good guardian for the children.

 

Frerin turned to give his friend a look, only to be tackled by a mass of muscle. Hitting the hard ground, he let out a his of air as he was hit in the head by a very heavy stick.

 

“Don't make Auntie cry!” A shrill childish voice hissed at him.

 

Groaning Frerin caught the fists of the child hitting him, opening up his eyes despite the throbbing in his head, he was very surprised to see a crying Ori sitting on his chest.

 

“Ori?” Frerin choked out.

 

“Uncle Frerin!” He was suddenlty rolling down the stairs as Ori was ripped form his chest, those voices sounded like his nephews, “Don't you dare make big brother cry or hurt Ori!”

 

Yep, those were his nephews. Clutching his head, he and every adult, except his father watched as Fili and Kili stood in front of the door with Ori beside them. The little boys were shouting about making someone cry and hissing up a storm.

 

All of the adult dwarrows thought one thing, what the hell just happened?

 

Thrain watched in a stupor as the door was opened again, the hobbit coming out with the booming voice of his youngest son and Balin and Dwalin clutching onto the little thing's pants. He watched as his grandsons and Ori were scolded, only for the hobbit to comfort the crying children.

 

He watched as the little thing looked at them with teary eyes and fear, but they were invited in. He watched as 13 children swarmed the hobbit with affection. He watched as his daughter went from angry to giddy, he watched as Oin and Gloin embrace their father and the gingered dwarf slap the stuttering hobbit on the back. He fallowed the little thing into the kitchen, he watched as it buried its face in its hands and cried.

 

Slowly the hobbit noticed he was there, its eyes puffy and lips trembling, “Please, please don't take them.”

 

Walking forward with shaky steps, he would fix this, he would make this right. He swept up the little thing into his arms, “I can't promise anything, but we can try to make this work.”

 

He stood there as the hobbit shook and sobbed into his chest, he would fix this, he tightened his arms as he heard the sickening laughter of orcs and goblins. He would solve this, he would. Rocking the little thing he began to think, his mind clearer than it had been in a long time. He knew the blue mountains couldn't support the exiles, that much was true, but could the Shire? Looking down at the sobbing mass in his arms, he thought, it would have too.

 

“We need to get back to them,” He whispered into the hobbit's curls. The little things smelled of sunshine, he still craved that smell. He didn't let the little thing go until Dori came calling. He watched as the hobbit swept up the oldest brother of Ri with a watery smile, he would try.

 

Leading the two back to the sitting room where Balin and Dwalin were animatedly telling a tale of running of a giant dog that came after their Khagun, he sat down and watched as everything grew quiet. Stealing his nerves against the whispers around him, he let authority radiate of him in waves, there would be no room for argument. “The young ones will stay in the Shire.”

 

Dis let out a hiss, “What, Khagam, you can't be serious!”

 

Dis pulled her boys closer, the hobbit may have been adopted by them, but she wasn't going to give up he sons.

 

“Khagam is right, the Blue mountains can't support us.” Frerin said, flinching under his sister's glare. They all knew it, there was little that they could do. The people of the Blue mountains hated them, they knew that since they first arrived.

 

Hissing back at her brother, “Than where can we go?”

 

“The Shire can support you.”

 

All the dwarrows turned to their lone hobbit guest. “The Shire grows more than enough food, we need smiths, and strong workers.” They watched as the hobbit spoke softly, “The men sometimes try to take advantage of hobbits, we need someone who can help us.”

 

“And where will we stay?” Gimli asked good heatedly, “Surely there isn't enough land to support half a kingdom of dwarrows.”

 

Slowly the hobbit nodded, “There is a lot of land, we don't use it, it's too close to the river. We it's not safe for us, during the winter lately the water has been freezing over and wolves and orcs have been making their way into the Shire, please.”

 

The silent unspoken plea left Thrain breathless, “Agreed. We will provide support and protection in exchange for jobs and homes.”

 

It may not have been the best set up that he could have come up with, but the blinding smiles for the hobbit and the young children had been more than worth the threats in his mind. Slowly he watched as the arrangements had been made.

 

Dis had been furious as the hobbit explained some laws to them, hobbits had laws that revolved around children and food. So the fact how they had been deemed bad guardians because they didn't make the time slot angered her deeply. It turns out that the letter had reached the blue mountains before the exiles had, it was also kept from them.

 

They had agreed that they would stay with their hobbit host, it would be best for the children. The home wasn't big enough for them all yet, but they would make due. And tomorrow they would speak with the Thain of the Shire, and a letter would be sent to their people. They would live in the Shire and protect her and her people, and the Shire's people would feed and care for them.

 

He had excused himself as their hobbit host began to serve dinner, one of seven meals a day. He was one of the most surprised, hobbit eat a lot of food. He didn't want to be in the tiny hole as the sun set and the light left. No, it was better for him to be out here, he would protect their new home from the orcs and goblins. Tightening his grip on his sword he glared at the growing shadows, he would kill them if they came near.

 

Hissing as the door was opened behind him, he kept careful track of the near silent footsteps. Glancing out of his good eye, he watched as the hobbit, he and Frerin decided the hobbit had to be a woman, as she sat down and began to smoke.

 

Nodding to the little thing he went back to watching the roads, danger could come from anywhere. He tried not to panic as the sun set farther and farther in the sky, she shouldn't be out here when it was dark, it wasn't safe. Turning he opened his mouth to tell the hobbit just how he felt, he was surprised when she spoke first.

 

“Thank you, I know you didn't have to do that and that it was best for the children, but still thank you.” Her voice was soft and light, oh her voice was like the sun, and if his breath caught when she looked at him with a blinding smile, no one was here to see it. Her smile was brighter than the sun after he escaped the caves. “My name is Bilbo Baggins, it is a pleasure to meet you your highness.”

 

“Thrain.” He growled out, “You can call me Thrain.”

 

The smile he got in return was warmer than the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also so romantic, a ship I had no idea I would write.  
> I'm almost sorry that this chapter just changed my whole plan for this story, it kind of ran away from me... again.
> 
> Bilbo- 35  
> Thorin- 42  
> Youngest son of Thrain  
> Dwalin- 43  
> Younger son Fundin  
> Balin- 46  
> Older son of Fundin  
> Fili amd Kili- 29  
> Sons of Dis  
> Gloin- 36  
> Younger son of Gimli  
> Oin- 45  
> Older son of Gimli  
> Dori- 42  
> Oldest brother of Ri  
> Nori- 40  
> Middle brother of Ri  
> Ori- 34  
> Youngest brother of Ri  
> Bifur- 44  
> Cousin of Bofur and Bombur  
> Bofur- 41  
> Older brother of Bombur  
> Bombur- 38  
> Younger brother of Bofur  
> Thrain- 205  
> Father of Dis, Frerin, and Thorin  
> Frerin- 142  
> Oldest son of Thrain  
> Dis- 137  
> Only daughter of Thrain  
> Gimli- 153  
> Father of Oin and Gloin  
> i hope that fixes any confusion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of the main story.  
> Frerin really needs to stop shoving his foot in his mouth.  
> Pfft, I am almost disappointed with how short this one is... But I couldn't make it any longer...

  Getting used to having so many dwarrows in his house was harder than expected, and he just learned how to handle 13. Sighing Bilbo kicked some of the awful smelling boots out of his way. His guest/house mates had been nothing but kind. Unfortunately dwarrows are very gender confused, Thrain and Frerin were no different.

 

The two had stubbornly decided that he was a woman, he couldn't do anything to changer their view either, the two shooting him down before he could try. Frerin would always wink at Thrain before forcing him out of what ever work he had set out to do. Not that he wasn't grateful, it was just that only Dis and Gimli actually listened to him about it.

 

The boys were adjusting better then he was. Balin was dead set on helping with the plans to expend Bag End, Dori coming along to help the older boy because the plans had to be done before winter ended. Ori was helping keep Kili and Fili out of trouble when Dis was busy. Thorin and Dwalin were fallowing Thrain around and idolizing the poor soul. Nori, Bofur, and Bombur fallowed around Gloin and Oin as they toddled after their father, the three boys were fascinated with Gimli's axes. The only ones not doing so well were Thrain and Bifur.

 

Thrain, oh the poor dwarrow was constantly reliving his torture, he would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and would see day visions at all hours. He also told Bilbo about the whispers. The hobbit had tried to keep himself from cringing back at that, Thrain may just be beyond mad. He didn't act like it all the time, most of the time he was but a kind caring father.

 

Thrain was gentle with him, Bilbo was the only one who could comfort the king and not lose a limb. He had discovered one night, he had gone against Dis's and Frerin's warnings and went into Thrain's temporary room. He was met with a shocking sight, Thrain screaming into large hands, sweat poring down the dwarf's body, and the one good eye wild like a wounded wolf.

 

The picture had struck something deep inside him, he remembered the wolves, so beautiful but so deadly. Thrain was very much like a wolf. He slowly approached, calling out softly to the dwarf. He stopped only a few feet away by Thrain's calculating glare and threatening ax, his hesitation was for not. Within a second Thrain was out of the bed trying to herd him to the safety of the corner of the room.

 

Thrain had growled and snarled at the shadows, til he had pulled the dwarf that was acting like a meat shield down to the floor with him. He pulled Thrain's head into the crook of his neck and whispered soothing words into the dwarf's ear. Thrain didn't let him go til morning and his back was incredibly stiff, but it was worth it to see the dark bags a little lighter on the king's face.

 

He was rewarded with Thrain fallowing him around and hovering over him protectively. Sometimes Thrain would explain that the whispers were telling him that the orcs and goblins wanted to take Bilbo away. The first day that had happened the dwarf had locked the hobbit way in the master bedroom and wouldn't let anyone in. Bilbo had climbed out the window and accidentally sent the dwarf into a fit, who then ended up terrorizing the Sackville-Bagginses. Bilbo wasn't all that upset by the end of the day.

 

Bilbo supposed that it was the same with his mother and father, his mother had been adventures, but it came at a price. She suffered from awful nightmares and visions of what had happened. His father was the only one who could comfort her, she had attacked everyone else, it was the reason why he never slept with his parents when he was younger. Maybe he could help Thrain by the two of them sharing a room, it would keep the dwarf calm and they both would be able to sleep then.

 

The two had talked for hours, he had learned a lot about the dwarf. He had learned that Thrain had been forced to have children at an extremely young age because of his father, who was sick with goldsickness. He learned about how the dwarf had met Fundin, the two had met while sparing and it slowly turned into a duel, after the two had exhausted themselves they passed out on the floor and talked in the infirmary for hours. Bilbo had learned how Thrain liked his jam and toast, he had learned how he didn't love his previous spouse and was almost glad that she didn't have to try to keep up appearances for him after her death. He had told Bilbo of how he had gone mad after Azog had slayed his father and how Frerin had wounded the monster orc. Bilbo had learned what every single twitch in the dwarf's face meant. Thrain had become a constant in his life, just like his boys.

 

He smiled as he found Thrain sitting on the bench in the front of the yard. The dwarf looking out at the road with a dark look and shoulders stiff, knowing that it was best to let the dwarf comeback to him, he wandered off to find Bifur. The little dwarf had grown incredibly distant, to the point of not even talking to anyone.

 

Bifur had become distant. He would avoid the other dwarrows, hiding away when someone came to talk with him. He would growl and hiss at any who came near, and had refused to sign at anyone. He would just curl up a night after receiving his good night hug and kiss, not saying a word to his cousins or anyone. He would disapear at all hours of the day coming back tracking mud and twigs, and eating very little. Bilbo had to corner him many times to force the boy to eat.

 

Bilbo found Bifur in the garden, hiding in the tomatoes. The little boy was making cat, cow, and bird sounds, his calls high pitched and watered down with tears. A piece of crumpled up paper in his hands, his boots dirty and his hair ruffled.

 

Bilbo ran to his little boy, scooping up the dwarf he pressed kisses to the dwarf's temple. Bifur hid in his chest and shoved the paper in his face, the words messy and smeared but still legible.

 

I love you Adad.

 

“Oh, my lad, Bifur, I love you too.” He hugged the dwarf to his chest, “You don't need to tell me with spoken words, you let me know everyday.”

 

Pressing a kiss to the scar on Bifur's forehead he continued on, “You let me know with every gift you give me, with every hug you give me after you wake up and before you go to bed. You show how much you love me when you hold your hands up asking to be lifted up, with every kiss on the check,” He gave the dwarf one to prove the point, “just shows how much you love me, my brave, strong, smart, talented Bifur.”

 

Bifur let out a strangled cat call before hiding into his adad's shirt, he drowned in the touches. He loved his adad, adad loved him and didn't care if he couldn't speak common tongue. He had been afraid that adad wouldn't love him anymore with all the other dwarrows running around, that in his silence he would be forgotten. Fisting his adad's shirt he looked his adad in the eye and spoke one of the few words adad would understand, “Khagam!”

 

“And your one of my little boys,” Bilbo kissed his on son the forehead, yes, Bifur was one of his children. Resting his head on the dark haired dwarf's, he reviled in the quiet comfort of one of his boys. The two sat in silence and listened as the birds, hobbits, and animals went about their business.

 

“Mr. Bilgbo, Mr. Bifur, are you two alright?” Hamfast asked, popping out from the other side of the tomatoes, scaring the two. Bilbo let out a small shriek and Bifur shoved a foot at his knee. “Ow, Mr. Bifur, that's rude!”

 

Bilbo huffed and stood up with Bifur in his arms, the dwarf was large but he was able. “So is scaring the daylights out of people, Hamfast, that was just rude.”

 

“What, it's not like I mean to-” Hamfast was cut off by a barbaric shout, and an ax burying itself into the ground a little away from their feet. The two hobbits jumped back with a shout, Hamfast moving between his friend and the offender. Holding his garden rake protectively before him he gave a cry when a crazed dwarf came thundering up.

 

“Thrain!”

 

“You know him?” Hamfast gave a scandalized cry. Bilbo had always been eccentric, but never suicidal. He shoved back the two behind him when the dwarf stalked forward barking out harsh sounds, he flinched when the one eyed dwarf began to snarl at him and try to reach for Bilbo and Bifur. He snapped the wooden end of the rake at the dwarf's hand, the snarling beast pulled back with a hiss and a roar.

 

“Thrain, stop!” Bilbo called from behind his friend, trying to hold a squirming Bifur still. Ignoring the adults, he gave Bifur a small scolding, “Now stop that, that is not the proper way to behave.”

 

Thrain watched as Bifur went loose in the hobbit's hold, the dwarf's eye wild and suspicious. Padding past his friend he stood before Thrain and gestured to Hamfast. “This is my friend and worker, Hamfast Gamgee. Hamfast, this is Thrain, king of the dwarrows from Erebor, who's people will be living with us as soon as the Thain gives them permission.”

 

“If you say so,” Hamfast mumbled offering his hand to the half crazed dwarf with a frown. Slowly he turned back to his friend, “Wait, is he staying with you?”

 

“Yes,” Bilbo rolled his eyes at Hamfast's hissed whisper, “he and his kin are staying with me and my boys, who also happen to be his kin.”

 

“Already beating me in the number of children you got and still aren't even married,” Hamfast teased ruffling Bilbo's hair. He pulled back his hand with a yelp when the dwarf smacked it away with a growl.

 

“Don't touch her without her consent.” Thrain growled pushing out his chest as he moved to stand between the opposing male. He wouldn't take any competition for his One, he didn't care if the hobbit had a claim or not, Bilbo was his. When anything that was dangerous came Bilbo went to him, like when the Sackville-Bagginses came.

 

“Her? Oh, by the Greenlady,” Hamfast gave out a small bark of laughter.

 

“It's not funny! I am a male and you know it!” Bilbo shouted at his friend in anger, his cheeks red with embarrassment. He may not have been the most masculine, like his father, but he was still a male hobbit.

 

Hamfast began to breath deeply and rolled his eyes, “I grew up with you, trust me I know. I know that you are a male hobbit, I've seen you.”

 

Thrain's face slowly twisted in rage, Bifur pulled on his adad's curls to get the hobbit's attention. Bilbo looked over to find the older dwarf giving Hamfast the scariest look he had ever seen the dwarf make.

 

Frerin chose the perfect time to pop up and make a joke, “So what's this I hear, talk about de-flowering?”

 

Hamfast realized his mistake, his face slowly going pale. Without a second thought as Thrain charged him, Hamfast yelped and took off in a run as Thrain roared after the gardener hobbit. Bilbo turned to give Frerin a look as the dwarf shouted something after his father. Sucking in a breath at the hobbit's face he asked with a quiet voice, “Too far?”

 

“You passed the Misty Mountains and over shot Mount Doom,” Bilbo answered back dryly.

 

* * *

 

Gerontius “The Old” Took Thain stared down the two hobbits before him like a disappointed parent scolding their children. Bilbo and Hamfast squirmed around like naughty children too. His head was resting in his right hand, a sigh was released from his lips. “So would you be so kind as to tell me why a dwarven king was chasing you, Hamfast.”

 

“Uh, he was attacking me because he thought that I had insulted Bilbo's honor.” Hamfast squirmed, trying to keep his gaze on the Thain. Frerin and Thrain were standing in the corner where Adaldrida put them not a few minutes ago.

 

“How?”

 

Bilbo bit his lip and spoke softly, “Um, they thought I was a female for a long time and Hamfast said that he knew I was a male.”

 

“And.”

 

“He said he had seen me, and King Thrain-”

 

“Thrain, just Thrain.” Thrain inturrupted.

 

 

“Thrian took that as an insult to my honor and Frerin made a joke about de-flowering.” Bilbo looked down with red checks.

 

The old took watched his grandson and Gamgee with a suspicious look, sending a glare to the dwarrows sitting in the corner of his office. The larger one, also the one more wild, with one eye kept looking at his grandson ever few moments, as if afraid Bilbo would just disappear. The smaller one, most likely the son of the other, just stood silently with hunched shoulders, obviously had spent a lot of time in the corner as a child. “Really?”

 

“Really.” Bilbo muttered with a glare. It was after all, all Thrain's and Frerin's fault. The two should have just believed him when he said that he was a male, and the two would have never have forced Hamfast to say something so underhanded on accident.

 

“Very well, how many dwarrows will we be accommodating?” Old Took asked offhandedly.

 

“Around two hundred,” Frerin answered with a small sigh.

 

“Hum, we may have to have some living in with families of the Shire,” Old Took said with a small frown, “Bilbo, how many are you looking after?”

 

“I will be looking after 18 once Gimli's wife arrives.”

 

“We should have enough room, at lest until we purchase some land for the dwarrows to live on, just out side of the Shire and Bree should do nicely I think.” Old Took hummed looking at his grandson for Bilbo's approval. He gave a small smile when his grandson gave an enthusiastic nod.

 

“Well that settles that,” Gerontius waved the four away, watching as Hafast and Frerin hightailed it out as fast as possible. Smiling a kind smile he watched as Thrain waddled slowly over to Bilbo with soft features and gentle hands. His eyes twinkling he turned to the two, “King Thrain, I expect you to take good care of my grandson because if you don't you will have to face down the whole Shire for your actions. Are we clear?”

 

The dwarf grunted in reply, “I will respect Bilbo and his decisions, thank you for your approval.”

 

Gerontius waved the dwarf off with a look, “Now, Bilbo, get your betrothed home and keep him out of trouble.”

 

“Be-betrothed!” Bilbo squeaked, not understanding where that came from.

 

Thrain just smiled at Bilbo's wide eyes and rosy checks, leaning down he pressed a chaste kiss to his betrothed's mouth. He led his soon-to-be spouse away as the hobbit began to sputter and shooting accusations. Unable to resist he pressed a small kiss to his Bilbo's forehead.

 

Watching as he grandson and soon-to-be in-law, he gave a small sigh and shook his head remembering his daughter. Pulling out on of the top drawers he fished around for his pipe, “Just like poor Bungo, doesn't even know what he got himself into.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will be writing an epilogue from the view of the company after they grow up. Will update it after I update a few others of my little stories.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it is the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Internet has been down for a bit, so this chapter was actually done a few days ago. Sorry.

Thorin stared down the round green door before him, his fist shaking at his sides as he tried to think of something to say before he knocked on the door that lead to the home he spent most of his childhood in. Dwalin and Balin beside him, feeling the same, the two had presents wrapped neatly in their not so steady hands. Fili and Kili hanging back, the two more afraid of their mother more than anything else. Dori was fussing over Ori, the two going through an old dance while Nori checked out the back door. Gloin and Oin hiding behind the gate, their father and mother sitting in the window that overlooked the garden. Bofur and Bombur were holding back their cousin as the speech-impaired dwarf hissed and scratched, repeating a familiar word.

It had been his idea, he was the one who pushed for their quest his whole childhood, he was the one who asked them to leave their home. He was the one who demanded that they claim what was rightfully theirs, but at a price they weren't so willing to pay.

Bilbo; their adad, mama, auntie, uncle, and big brother; had been furious with their decision. The small hobbit crying that it was madness, their wizard companion saying it was necessary. They had been ready to go within the night, Thrain watching them sneak out under a watchful eye, the older dwarf offering one piece of advice; come back alive, no matter what.

And they did. They came back, just like they were supposed to.

Looking back at Balin and Dwalin, the two nodding, he stepped up to the green door. After a light knock on the door Ori used a slingshot to hit the doorbell, he turned on the young lad with frowned brow. Mama would be upset if the doorbell broke.

They waited, the longest seconds of their lives. A breath of air left every member of the traveling dwarrows when a small shuffling was heard behind the door. Grumbling soon followed, the deep, but gentle voice of their Bilbo. The door was swung open in a flurry of color, there in the doorway was their Bilbo. Slowly the hobbit's face melted from shock, to surprise, to anger, and finally tears began to fall from the softly aging eyes.

Thorin moved forward uncertainly, Dwalin, Balin, and Bifur closely at his back. Opening up his arms when he stood but a few inches from his mama, he spoke softly with a shaky voice, “Khagun-”

“You stupid dwarves!” Bilbo shouted, with a sob he threw himself at one of his boys, his fists clasping tightly to Thorin's traveling coat. He continued to cry as he was enveloped in his boys, each dwarf offering an apology and their own tears. “Don't you dare ever do something like that ever again.” Bilbo hiccuped into the thick furs.

“We're sorry Khagun,” Balins whispered into Bilbo's curls his own eyes shedding tears as well, no one was happy about having to leave behind their Bilbo, Thrain, Dis, Frerin, Gimli, and Verel. They were happy to be home.

“No you're not.”

Dwalin grunted at the soft cry of distress, his mom was upset, he was angry then. Wrapping a meaty arm around his mom's shoulders he pressed a kiss into the smaller's curls, “We are, we promise never to do it ever again.” He grumbled as he met red and puffy eyes, “Promise.”

Bifur growled in agreement, his face hidden in his adad's shoulder, his hands holding tightly to the robe. The robe that had been his favorite hiding spot when he was growing up, the robe that he and Balin would crawl into when playing hide-and-go-seek with the others. Home.

“Honest brother,” Fili cryed out, Kili finishing for him, “We're well, we promised we'd come back.” The two hiding behind Thorin, their uncle and family was more or less well. The others sending in their grunts and cries of affirmative. 

The group was pushed aside when Thrain arrived, the large dwarf pushing through the group, pressing a soft kiss to his husband's forehead he offered an idea, “Lets go and discuss this inside.”

Bilbo nodded while hiding his face in his husband's chest, the large dwarf's warmth calming him slightly, “I have some tea on the burner.”

When Gloin and Oin stepped into their home they weren't surprised to be wrapped up in a strong embrace from their parents, Gimli radiating with pride and Verel resisting the urge to slap her babies silly. Gimli pressed a loving hand on his boys' shoulders as he lead them to the living room, where Fili and Kili were getting an ear full from their own mother. Dis hissing up a storm, Frerin alternating between nodding when his sister could see and giving the two approving looks when she couldn't. Bilbo and Thrain were in the kitchen, both trying to calm down after weeks of being worried to the point of being ill over their boys.

Bilbo rested on the counter, his hands buried into his husband's hair, combing through the thick mass. A habit he picked up over the years, it calmed them both. Thrain littering kisses on his lips and face, their foreheads rested together. Thrain's grip tightened on his hips, the dwarf unwilling to set him back on the floor.

“It's all better now, they're home.”

“I know,” He whispered back, his voice uncertain and shaky. He saw the scars, all new on his boys; Gloin's arm, Oins collarbone, Fili's ear chipped at, the deep scar dragging over one of Kili's eyes, and he was more than certain that there were others he couldn't see. Pulling back to rest his face into the familiar cove of his husband's shoulder he mumbled, “Doesn't mean that they aren't in trouble.”

Thrain chuckled, pressing a kiss to Bilbo's pointed ear, “That they are, now lets go hand out tea, I'm sure Dori is dieing for a nice cup.” His lips curling into a loving smile when soft lips pressed over his scarred eye, he used to be slightly afraid that his husband was disgusted by his bad eye. He was proven wrong everyday, at least one kiss was pressed to the scarred tissue every morning. Walking hand in hand, the two made their way over to the living room, full of noise. The small set of teacups held between them with practice, and the tray was placed on the center table. Like they predicted Dori nearly took the whole pot.

Curling up with his other half in the familiar green chair, his husband wrapped around him like a safety blanket. The large family listened to the tells of the young dwarrows journey. The tell of getting back the last great dwarven kingdom of Erebor.

Fili and Kili talking animatedly about their first watch and how they scared poor Ori over orc cries. Gloin nearly puffing up with pride about being the best fire-starter, even punched an elf in the face for insulting his mother, Verel was incredibly proud of her boy for that. Oin nearly waving the herbal tome that had saved the company's lives many times in Bilbo's face, happily receiving praise from his uncle. Bofur proudly talked about how it was his idea to smoke Smaug out, and that it was he who negotiated their release from the wood elves, Thorin laid him a nasty glare for it. Bifur growled out that he looked after his younger cousins like he was supposed to, fighting off trolls, orcs, goblins, and wargs like he was asked by he adad. Dwalin growled back that he did just as much, the shaved dwarf looking to Bilbo and Thrain for praise about taking out the most orcs and wargs. Balin humbly pointing out that the company would have been lost without him to guide them, everyone knowing Thorin still got lost in the Shire. Nori snorted and explained that the whole quest would have been useless without his quick hands to keep them fed and well. Ori showed everyone his written tells and drawings of the journey, blushing under the praise he was given. Bombur explained how the group would have killed over if it wasn't for his cooking, knowing Dwalin only knew how to make cookies. Dori spoke of how his great strength helped the company many times. All while Thorin glared at the group interjecting into his narration.

The young prince, would puff up in rage every time one of his brothers would interject, cutting him off as he described the journey. Thorin described the burning of Lake town with a heavy heart, he looked to Bilbo and Thrain with a steady gaze, “If I hadn't have heeded your words Khagun that first night, we would have all died when the elves and men came to collect their shares of the gold.”

“What words?” Bilbo frowned his brows.

“The story you told Fili and Kili, it was basically our quest. From having to be humble and ask Lord Elrond for help, to fighting a gang of trolls that were outsmarted by our smallest member,” Thorin patted Ori on the back for the great feet, “to even our capture and the apology that the wood elves offered us, and even the ending; the great king gave all he promised to his allies, had I not have we would have been killed by the army of orcs, goblins, and wargs that marched on us. We would have all lost our lives.”

“That was just a story,” Bilbo stuttered out, hiding from the gazes of his family in his husband's shoulder, “There is no way that my story could have done all of that!”

“But it did!” Fili and Kili cried, their faces alight with pride, “And we were the first ones to hear of our great journey.”

Dwalin snorted and slapped the two upside their heads, “Hold that humbleness in oh great princes.”

Thorin ignored the bickering three, “I have reclaimed our homeland Khagan, or should I say my king.” The whole house gave a small bow to the one eyed dwarf and a mutter of respect to their king.

Thrain didn't blink when he stared down his boys, “No.”

“Khagan?” Thorin blinked in surprise at his father's words.

“No,” Thrain set a hand on the confused dwarf, who sat next to him in the other large chair of Bag End, “You, my son, have reclaimed our people's homeland, it is you who is their king.”

Frerin grinned, “Indeed, oh so younger brother.”

“I am your king,” Thorin grumbled childishly as Frerin leaned over to tussle his hair.

“Will you travel back with us?” Dis asked her father, cutting Fili and Kili as they were describing their quarters in Erebor.

“No,” Thrain rested his chin on his husband's head, “We'll stay here, we will lead any dwarves who chose to remain, as well as offer any assistance to those who need it when traveling back.”

Bilbo let out a shaky breath, he was glad that he wouldn't have to travel across Middle earth. He wasn't an old man, but he was passed his years as a spry young man, he was a father whose children were all grown up. He would have packed up his things if Thrain would have decided to leave, he would have become the consort of Erebor, all his husband would have had to do was ask. Thrain didn't, no Thrain chose to stay in THEIR home.

“How long will you be staying?” Frerin asked with a curious face.

“What about you?” Dis asked watching her brother suspiciously.

“I will stay behind and help our king of the dwarves of the Shire and the future Thain,” Frerin waved a hand, “I would probably only cause problems in Erebor about succession, being the oldest and our Khagan's named heir. And our Khagan and Bilbo are getting on in their years.”

“Watch it sapling.” Bilbo huffed at the dwarf playfully.

“Oh, by the Thain's command.”

“We'll be staying for about four months,” Balin answered the question from earlier. The dwarves offering their agreements, Dain would be fine for a bit longer. The group was in no hurry to leave their Bilbo behind anytime soon. They all knew it would be a battle uphill to make any of them leave, Bifur would probably injure a few dwarves for standing between him and his adad. Dwalin and Balin were unwilling to leave behind their mom, Throin just as much so. “We'll be visiting often.”

Bilbo smiled at his family, everything was complete and well. His boys were fine, his husband beside him, and his family finally got their home back. There would be many dwarves who would remain in the Shire, many finding partners or enjoying the lifestyle. He wouldn't have to go too long without out his family, and even when most left, he would still have Thrain. Squeezing the large dwarf's hand, they talked about their plans for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end, Thank you all for your time and affection.
> 
> For those who are interested i will be writing another Bilbo/Thrain story, you know because of reasons. And this ship is now one of my guilty pleasure ships. I almost regret this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all again for reading, will never stop being thankful for all of you.  
> If you see anything wrong just let me know!
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.- Working on an Anthro/Furry story for the company, but I can't come up with what to make the Ri brothers. Would appreciate some suggestions, everyone else is all good, it's just Nori, Ori, and Dori who need to be "transformed". ANY thing would be nice, but no birds or the like, I need some sort of ground animal for the dwarves. I can't think of anything that would fit them, so please help me!


End file.
